The Day Of Fire Is Coming, The

There Is Joy In All: In The Hair I Brush Each Morning, In The Cannon Towel, Newly Washed, That I Rub My Body With Each Morning.

Put Your Ear Down Close To Your Soul And Listen Hard.

The Day Of Fire Is Coming, The Thrush Will Fly Ablaze Like A Little Sky Rocket.

I Hoard Books. They Are People Who Do Not Leave.

One Can't Build Little White Picket Fences To Keep Nightmares Out.